The Wizarding Game
by Eloise Rosier
Summary: The month before he sets off for Hogwarts, Harry Potter has a chance encounter with another wizard in Surrey. He realises that his new life at Hogwarts might be just as dangerous and complicated as the life he's leaving behind in Surrey. He resolves to master the game of magic as well as he has the game of suburban survival. Except this time,he wants to not only survive but thrive.


_-August 12, 1991 Little Whinging_

Harry reached up and brushed his fringe out of his eyes as he trailed his Aunt out of Tescos, weighed down by the huge amount of groceries necessary to sustain Vernon and Dudley's rather insatiable appetites.

The first few days after his return from the trip to Diagon Alley, his relatives had left him alone in his new bedroom. Unaccustomed to such large amounts of free time, Harry had attempted to read his new school books. He'd always liked to read at school but had seldom had the opportunity and besides _magic _books had to be far more interesting than anything Harry had ever read before.

He, however, soon learnt that school books were school books and these particular books , despite being initially interesting, often assumed a level of familiarity with magic that Harry outright lacked. He figured he'd work it out at school, he always did. He'd never needed to be prepared before, why would he need it now.

After the first few days, the fear installed in the Dursleys by Hagrid had started to fade and that morning his Aunt had thudded on his door until he'd agreed to come and help her with the shopping.

"Hurry up, boy." his Aunt snapped, jerking Harry from his thoughts.

He'd fallen several yards behind her and went to increase his pace.

"Harry Potter! Is that you?" a portly gentlemen said as he rushed up to Harry from behind. He was wearing the odd assortment of muggle clothing that Harry was coming to associate with wizards and he found himself wishing his wand was in his pocket and not on his bedside table at home.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, giving an odd little bow in Harry's direction. The man must have seen the confusion in Harry's face, for suddenly his face lit up.

"Oh, you've been raised with muggle customs. How delightful!"

He then proceeded to stick his hand in Harry's face with gusto.

Harry took the proffered hand gingerly and replied hesitantly while shooting anxious glances in his Aunt's direction. She looked torn between horror at causing even more of a scene and the thought of allowing her nephew to speak with 'one of his kind'.

"Er…and your name is?" Harry mumbled with a sheepish smile. He was still getting accustomed to his apparent fame in the magical world and the absurd fuss that it seemed to entail.

"Oh terrible sorry, chap. The name's John, John Abbot. It's such an honour to meet you. Can't thank you enough for what you did."

Harry was kind of bewildered and went bright red but before he managed to get out a reply John continued.

"You're starting at Hogwarts this year, right? It was in the _Prophet_. My niece is starting this year, name's Hannah. More house-witch inclined in her spell-work, I reckon but my brother thinks she's Hogwarts material. Not like you, eh. I'm sure you'll be top of your class!"

Harry hadn't understood half of what the man had said but he nodded anyway.

"Thanks, sir. Er.. I have to be going now but 'twas a pleasure meeting you."

The man grinned and tilted his purple top hat in Harry's direction.

Harry caught up with his aunt who hadn't moved during the interaction.

'It's a good thing he wasn't trying to hurt me," Harry thought. 'cause he knew his Aunt certainly would have left him for the wolves. Unless the neighbours were watching, of course.

When Uncle Vernon was mad he went a distinct shade of red. But when his Aunt was mad she went very, very pale and acted as if Harry did not exist. This was actually in many ways more dangerous than Vernon's short, explosive anger because Aunt Petunia held a grudge for a long time and her mood directly correlated with the quality and frequency of Harry's meals.

The one bright spot for Harry as he trailed behind his fuming Aunt down Wisteria Walk back to Privet Drive was the knowledge that in less than a month he's have escaped it all for the mysterious Hogwarts.

Yet that night Harry couldn't sleep. He was shifting restlessly on Dudley's old bed and watching the glowing green numbers inch closer and closer to his 7 o'clock alarm. Harry always liked to be awake before the Dursleys. It was the result of years of training from his life in the cupboard.

Harry couldn't get his conversation with John Abbot out of his head. From his manners to his vocabulary and even his dress, Harry hadn't understood him. And that was a problem. Harry wasn't stupid. He might not have been the most academically inclined at school but that was part survival instinct and part sheer lack of time to do his homework.

What Harry knew best was how to survive. How to work whatever you had to your advantage was something life with the Dursleys and later a primary school riddled with bullies where nobody ever took his side had taught him. He might only be eleven but living in a place where everyone hated taught you how to take care of yourself early on. He hadn't forgotten this of course but he didn't like living like that. He'd wanted a fresh start and the magical world had seemed so well, _magical. _So very separate and above the problems of his mundane life.

But Harry's encounter with John Abbot had changed all that. Harry realised that the magical world was real on a level he hadn't really before. It was another game he had to play and he knew none of the rules. Even worse, these people had grand expectations of him. He, Harry, who was overwhelmed by his first year textbooks.

Then another thought struck Harry. It hadn't really hit him before that real people idolized him because of his fame. His experiences in Diagon Alley had happened so quickly and had seemed almost surreal. Wizards had approached him in Surrey before, of course, but back then he'd known nothing of magic. Now he wondered if he could get abducted or something. He wished Hagrid had let him buy that book of jinxes, Harry knew no way to protect himself magic and that worried him.

As sleep began to claim him, Harry swore to himself that come morning he'd work out a plan to play the wizarding world the way he'd played the Durselys. So he could make sure that he not only survived but that he thrived.


End file.
